


Of Separate Parties

by Sargerogue



Series: The Line of Wanderers [4]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Characters have crushes on each other, No one is in a relationship yet, Someone is but not on screen yet, Well - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 13:02:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15486354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sargerogue/pseuds/Sargerogue
Summary: Freye Took goes to see her beloved cousin Bilbo Baggins just days before a meddlesome wizard arrives at Bag End. She's not keen to let her cousin go running off with dwarrows without someone watching his back.





	1. 4-24-2941; Bag End

**Author's Note:**

> The usual disclaimer.

Bilbo Baggins was not expecting visitors today and yet there was a knock on his door shortly after elevensies. It might be of Hamfast Gamgee, the son of Hobson Gamgee his neighbor. Young Hamfast was only fifteen but was often sent on errands by his father up to Bilbo’s or by Holman Greenhand, the boy’s master in all things gardening and Bilbo’s gardener. While there were some that said young Hamfast was too young to be starting his trade skills – not even a tween the market ladies gossiped – his father approved of his son’s dedication to learn a trade other than that of a roper, Hobson’s trade. So, not put out by the interruption in his day, he opened the door with a smiling face.

Only, he found that he had to look up at his cousin, Freye Took, as she stood in the doorway carrying a travel pack and armed with several weapons. While certainly nothing like her hobbit cousins, she had never arrived at his house dressed as she was. She looked quite un-hobbit like, not that it mattered to Bilbo. He welcomed her into her home just as he would any of his Took or Baggins relatives, if not better than them.

“Cousin!” He pulled her in for a hug. She held their heads together in a traditional dwarfish – she preferred a good headbutt herself, but Hobbits couldn’t take the shock of the blow according to her grandmother -- greeting between family members before pulling back. “Welcome! Oh, this is a delightful surprise.”

“I would have sent mail ahead if it wasn’t such an unexpected trip. Grandmother thought it would be best if I went out into the world. I wanted to see you first.”

“Off on an adventure then? Well, you can hide here for a while before you go back to her. We both know she’ll regret sending you off inside of a week. We should hit the market! Get some of that spiced mead you like. Come, come, I’ll show you your room. I’ve changed it a bit since your last stay, had one afternoon where I was terribly bored you see.”

She changed into her more hobbit like clothes, a skirt for starters. She hated the things, but the hobbits of the Shire were more welcoming when she wore a skirt instead of pants. After changing she stored her things, her weapons whittled down to just her daggers that were concealed in her skirt. Bilbo knew she carried them but never complained. He knew his cousin felt safer with them.

Bilbo chatted the whole way to the market. His enthusiasm about her stay was infectious. The older cousin was soon grinning madly as they walked the market and ran into friends. Freye carried most of the food back up, as well as the small barrel of mead, while Bilbo chattered on.

Freye cooked dinner. While Bilbo’s cooking was superb, he had the tendency of leaving the heads on fish. She could not stand the sight of a fish staring up at her from her plate. So, she made dinner and he made the tea, something that he was far better at. They talked far into the night before heading to bed. Bilbo looked forward to looking at the new weapons his cousin was wielding the next day after she hit the market for fresh eggs and some more flour.


	2. 4-26-2941; Bag End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwarrows in Bag End.

Ever since the previous morning when Gandalf the Grey had swung by Bag End, Bilbo had been acting quite strangely. Of course, Freye was not much better. She had caught a glimpse of Gandalf as he left the yard, the mark on the door fresh and glowing. She interrogated Bilbo for details and started making a list of supplies she would need. (“What do you mean we have guests coming?” “It’s Gandalf. If he said there were others coming, then there certainly will be. And we both know you will not turn them away.” “Then you do it.” “Tanta, Shanna, and Wystan would rise from the dead and hit me with a frying pan not to mention what your mother would do to me. Now hand me the flour.”)

“How do you know that Gandalf didn’t listen to me?” Bilbo demanded. He watched her work busily around the kitchen. She wore her skirt, a tight vest that pressed her bosom down, and a cloth over her hair as she bustled around the kitchen with stacks of dishes and food. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and then put in a simple bun before all of it was covered by a cloth to conceal her beads and clear dwarfish hairstyle. She had worn a shirt that had a high neckline as to conceal her necklaces, both the beaded one and the blessing gift from her godfather. She looked like a hobbit for the most part, the exception being her socked feet concealed in the soft leather shoes she preferred in the house. Her feet, luckily, were concealed by her skirt.

Freye had made enough food for an army. She had filled the table in the kitchen twice over with food, the stacking careful but precise to allow it. There were four barrels of ale sitting on the counter as well, ready to serve drinks. She had prepared enough for a full company of hobbits, Dwarves, or Men. It had Bilbo nervous.

“The mark on your door, dear cousin. It says you are looking for adventure, work, and are a burglar. Ask Gandalf, not me. As to knowing it would be today, Gandalf would have needed a day to tell anyone.” Not to mention, she thought, that Gandalf was in Bree a month before causing trouble with the dwarrows and if he had convinced Thorin of whatever he wanted to, than there would be dwarrows on the doorstep. She’d made some of Brynye’s favorite cookies to hold the gathering over until all guests had arrived.

Bilbo put down a platter a little harder than intended. He had spent the better part of the morning trying to cover the mark with anything he could, only for the blue glow of the mark to go right through whatever he had put over it. “Damned mark won’t go away.”

“Likely Gandalf’s magic. You know what Grandmother has to say about him. She still has words about how he took your mother off on an adventure at her young age. Saw him last month I did, caused quite the row with Grandmother. Trust me Cousin, trouble is coming to the house. I would much rather be prepared.”

Before he had a chance to reply, there was a knocking on the door. Bilbo attempted to answer it but Freye beat him to it with the speed and grace of a true hostess. Bilbo stood rather stupidly to her right as she opened the door. There was a balding dwarf on the front step. He looked them both over, his gaze lingering on Freye longer than expected, before introducing himself and bowing—Dwalin, son of Fundin had arrived. Distantly, Freye recalled that name from her grandmother’s stories.

“Freye Took and Bilbo Baggins, at your service and your family’s.” She bowed back. “Come in, Master Dwarf. Might I ask how many are in your company? Gandalf did not tell my cousin much about this adventure you all are taking, sprung it on him yesterday as a matter of fact. I would like to know how many I am cooking for.”

“That would be the wizard for you. There are fourteen, not counting Master Baggins and yourself. Our leader may be late; he had a meeting with our kin in the north.”

“Fourteen, quite the number. I think I need to put another batch of muffins in. We’ll have to save a little food for your leader but that should not be a problem. I have ale and cookies to hold you over until the company arrives. I would prefer to feed everyone at once. Cousin show Master Dwalin to the dining room. Perhaps between you, you could move another table in and start moving the chairs as well.”

Her tone of voice did not allow for question. Bilbo cleared his throat and led the dwarf through his halls after insisting he remove his boots and leave his back near the doorway to the smial. Freye chuckled as she heard Dwalin curse about walking around in just his socks.

Freye answered the door alone when Master Balin showed up. She gave him a similar speech and showed him where to put his things before sending him on to where Dwalin was remarking that Bilbo had surprising strength for a hobbit. She heard the telltale crash of two heads meeting as the brothers greeted each other as well. She knew his name as well and drew the connection between them. Well, Dwalin would at least appreciate the cookies she made if her grandmother’s stories were anything to go by.

She had nearly everything settled for dinner when the next knock came. The two young dwarrows looked slightly taken aback by her appearance in the door. The blond dwarf stared at her longer than necessary, an odd look coming over his face. The younger one was glancing over her shoulder and nudging his brother as discretely as he could. Freye felt her heart skip a beat as she looked at the blond; she had never met someone she felt an instant connection with. There was just something about him, like a puzzle piece fitting into place.

The elder dwarf cleared his throat and said, “Fíli.”

“And Kíli,” the younger dwarf said quickly following.

Together they said, “At your service,” while bowing deeply.

“We’re looking for a Mister Boggins. Didn’t know he had a wife,” Kíli commented while his brother stomped on his foot. Kíli shot him a glare.

“I believe you’re looking for my cousin Bilbo Baggins, Master Kíli. The notion of my cousin being married is laughable, confirmed bachelor that one. I am Freye Took at your service, Princes of Erebor.” They exchanged a confused glance, her use of their proper titles surprising them. It was an honest slip of her tongue but after encountering their uncle just a month before, she was sure to know the members of the royal family by name and old descriptions her grandmother could give her. She would brush it off as knowing about dwarrows from living in Bree. She motioned them inside and closed the door. “Please place your weapons and bags there by Master Dwalin’s and Master Balin’s things. Coats are hung up just around the corner in the hall. Masters Dwalin and Balin are in the dining room with my cousin. I believe they still need help moving the chairs in. If you’ll excuse me, I have to finish the food preparations.”

“Of course. Thank you, Mistress Took.” It was Fíli who said it, bowing his head slightly. He held her gaze for longer than necessary, a small smile on his face. Kíli rolled his eyes at his brother and went to put his things down. Freye ducked her head to break eye contact and headed back to the kitchen.

She had just finished the food when the bell sounded again. She pulled the door open allowing a plethora of dwarrows to fall through. A light giggle came out of her as she surveyed them. Gandalf bent down to greet her, surprised by her appearance there.

“Gandalf, a pleasure to see you again so soon. You have my cousin in quite the tizzy.”

“Miss Freye, I had no idea that you were visiting. I apologize for the chaos I brought down on you.”

“As if my grandmother’s home is any less exciting. Do not think I have forgotten your last visit. Surprised Grandmother ever went to bed that night.” Freye straightened up a bit. “She told me to have an adventure and sent me out on my own. It was a happy coincidence that I am here.”

“Indeed.”

“Now then, gentlemen, if you would put your things down where the others have and remove your boots, I could use help moving the food from the kitchen to the dining room. If my numbers are correct we are still one short.”

“Quite right,” said one of the dwarrows.

“Then I shall save him a healthy serving. Please, hurry up.”

The dwarrows followed her into the kitchen and helped her carry everything into the dining room. They were quick about it and only Freye’s quick action of shoving Bilbo into a seat with food led him getting any in a timely fashion. She ferried several tankards of ale to the table, better than having one of the younger lads walk across the table as they had mentioned over draining their mugs, before claiming her own plate and food. She had to lightly jab one of the dwarrows over a roll, but he took it all in stride. She leaned against the entry to the dining room, ducking out of the way of thrown food while Bilbo sputtered in his seat. She gave him a reassuring pat on the back.

“Mistress Took,” Balin said calling her attention to him, “where did you learn to cook for dwarrows?”

“My grandmother,” she replied. “She lives in Bree, always had guests of one sort or another. Once hosted a party of Rangers stranded in a storm. You are not the first dwarrows I have fed.” She did not say anything further. She still had her hair tightly wrapped; she had checked her wrappings after Fíli and Kíli arrived. There were some dwarrows out there that hated her mixed parentage. They saw her as a slight against their kind. She was not certain if any such dwarrows were present, but it was better to take precautions. She knew that Balin and Dwalin would be accepting, they had known Brynye and Frye. The princes would likely accept her as well, their mother would have told them about Brynye over the years and they were old enough that she could have met them while still living in Ered Luin. It was the rest of the company she wasn’t positive about. Glóin she had heard of through the traders and he had a rather large mouth when it came to his hatred of all beings with pointy ears, of which Hobbits and Half-Hobbits would likely fit. Of course, he had probably never met a hobbit before. It was a slippery slope.

She watched with a small smile on her face as the dwarrows lightly tortured her cousin with their behavior. The dishes incident had him nearly reaching for a knife—at one point he did motion for her to hand him one of hers, but she shook her head--, but he cooled off quickly enough. He had looked at her for help but found her laughing into her hand as the young Durin princes tossed plates and bowls around. She especially enjoyed watching Fíli as he danced around the room.

They had just finished in the kitchen when the last knock on the door came. Freye caught the door before anyone else could. The dwarf standing before her was the one she had feared would appear.

“Welcome to Bag End, Master Dwarf. Freye, at your service,” she said and bowed honorably. Thorin’s gaze lingered on her face as he stepped in the door. For a moment she thought the whole charade was up. It had been a month since they had seen each other, he would surely see right through her disguise.

“Thorin Oakenshield,” he said, “at yours. I know you, do I not?”

“You must know many people, Your Majesty. I saved you some food, should still be warm. I will fetch it for you. Please put your things down over there and boots off. My cousin does not like mud tracked through the smial.” He thanked her and trailed after her to the dining room. He was greeted enthusiastically by the young Heirs of Durin before the others greeted him. Freye returned with his food and placed it in front of him as the others settled down. She listened in on the meeting from the kitchen as she took care of the few leftover foods and dealt with the pots and pans that had still had food in them when Bifur had done the dishes.

While putting the rolls away, Freye noticed a peering face in the window and glared. The hobbit was leering in at the dining room from a kitchen window, barely seeing anything but still spying. Freye calmly walked over to Bilbo as Balin extracted the contract for his inspection.

“Excuse me, gentlemen. Cousin, conkers with Lobelia? She seems to be gawking again,” Freye remarked.

“That dreaded woman. Just because I told her I would not court her. I swear, she just wants to find a way to steal Bag End from me through Lotho if she gets the chance. I have to count my spoons every time she leaves. Which reminds me, Master Dwarf,” he said pointing at Nori, “put mine back.” Nori placed three shiny spoons in Dori’s outstretched hands while Dwalin grumbled about the thief. Nori just shot him a look that was somewhere between a challenge and flirting, Freye wasn’t sure. Bilbo spotted the apple sitting beside Thorin’s plate. “Cousin, do you have more apples?”

“Quite a few.”

“Master Oakenshield, my cousin will get you a new apple. I need this one and it will no longer be edible.” Bilbo snatched the apple and stalked toward the door. Fíli and Kíli followed curiously with several of the other dwarrows. Thorin wandered toward a kitchen window to watch while Freye got him a new apple.

Outside, Bilbo chased Lobelia off his property and threw the well-aimed apple in an arc at her head. It smashed her square in the temple, sending her to the dirt of Bagshot Row.

“Leave your nose out of my affairs Lobelia Bracegirdle, you hack! I hope your tomatoes rot this year! Would serve you right,” Bilbo shouted after her. Lobelia scrambled to her feet and ran off. “No means no,” he muttered as he headed back to the smial.

“Quite the shot, Master Baggins!” Kíli crooned.

“We’re taught at a young age, Master Kíli. There is a reason there are no small creatures in the Shire; they learned to run if they didn’t wish a rock to the head.”

Kíli asked his uncle, as they walked back into the house, if he had seen the throw. Thorin simply smirked as he bit into the apple that Freye had brought him. Perhaps there was more to the little grocer than he had though.

“Not quite the simple grocer, Master Baggins. However unorthodox your skills, they may still be useful. You will receive training on the road, that is certain.”

“I still haven’t seen the contract.”

Thorin bid Balin forward with the contract. Freye watched her cousin read through every line. His simple questions were answered by Bofur who seemed to be doing his best to scare the poor hobbit to death before the adventure could even start. The fact that Bilbo passed out on the floor did not surprise her. She plucked an incense (a precaution against smelly travel wary dwarrows) off its holder and waved it in front of his face to rouse him. Gandalf took him into the parlor to talk while she finished cleaning up.

After the solemn song was sang, the one that resonated inside of her and bid her to join their journey as well, she helped the dwarrows bed down for the night. There were a few spare beds made up, the largest going to Gandalf while the next in priority were Balin, Óin, and Thorin. Fíli and Kíli said they could share one of the other ones if no one minded them taking it. Dori forced his brothers to take the last bed before bedding down in the same room. Glóin and Dwalin found a few pillows and made decent mats to sleep on for the rest of the Company. Freye offered her bed up but the dwarrows took that as an insult.

“Not right to have a lady sleep on the floor,” Bofur said. “You keep your bed lass. We’re just fine.”

Fíli had helped Kíli settle their things into their room before he walked out to ask their hostess a question. He cleared his throat as she walked by with several blankets in hand in hopes to make the sleeping mats more comfortable.

“Yes, Master Fíli?” she asked.

“Please, just Fíli. I was hoping you might have some thread and a needle,” he said nervously. He pulled out the tunic he had been wearing from behind his back. “After that lovely bath you drew for us, I noticed this tear in my tunic. I was hoping to fix it before we left. Don’t want to dip into the Company supplies just yet.”

“I can have it fixed for you before you leave in the morning,” Freye offered. She handed the blankets off to a passing Bifur who bowed his head. She took the tunic from his hands and inspected the tear. “I don’t have quite the right color of thread, but I can stitch it all the same.”

“I would never ask-.”

“I’m offering. Go rest. I’ll leave it just inside the door to your room when I’m done or give it to you in the morning. Just leave the door cracked so if I do finish it early I can drop it off.”

“Then thank you.” He nervously scratched the back of his neck before backing away, stumbling into Dwalin as he went. Freye watched him leave and felt another flutter in her chest. She folded the tunic and placed it in the pocket of her apron.

She went back to the kitchen where the last remaining dishes, Thorin’s and the pots that had held extra food, laid waiting to be cleaned. She let her thoughts drift, not hearing when Thorin walked into the kitchen. She had half a mind to ask Thorin for permission, for another contract to be written, but she was hesitant to ask. Dwalin seemed to think her just as feeble as her cousin, glaring at her when she dared to move an axe so it was out of the walkway. The look he had shot her read that he thought she would cut off a finger by simply touching it. It had angered her enough that she nearly pulled out her mastery bead to shut up the look. She did not.

Thorin, surely, was under the impression that Bilbo would not join his quest. However, Freye knew her cousin better and he would go, even if he woke up fifteen minutes late and realized his error. She was already planning letters to the Thain, to young Hamfast Gamgee, and another to Drogo Baggins (Bilbo’s heir if her memory served her). The house would need to be cared for and she refused to see Lobelia, who was soon to marry into the Sackville-Baggins if rumor was to be believed, get her mitts on the place. The Sackville-Baggins had no right to Bilbo’s things either way. He had a will with a clear line of heirs, none of which were in the Sackville-Baggins clan. She would also need to write a letter to her grandmother, though she might be able to briefly stop by Bree if the timing aligned. She would have to be swift if she stopped. Bilbo may be relatively safe in the company of dwarrows, but she was intent on seeing her cousin safely home in the end.

It was in the middle of those thoughts that Thorin entered the kitchen, after he had seen his company to bed and Bilbo had turned in as well as Gandalf. They were the last two awake. He watched her from the doorway, waiting for her to turn around. When she did, she stopped. She knew that analyzing gaze, had seen it in Bree. He walked forward, fingers moving to her hair wrappings and pulling them back to release the bun of braids. He smiled slightly, that same smile he had given her before he had left Bree, at the familiar face.

“Freye Took. I did not think the name was a coincidence. Why are you in the Shire?”

“Sigin’amad said I needed to find my own path.” Freye pulled away and wiped off the table. “My cousin will come tomorrow, even if he misses your departure. He is not wholly a Baggins as he likes to believe. His Took blood is singing; it wants adventure. He will come.”

“Are you that certain?”

“I know him well. He is the closest thing I have to a brother.” She took one of the cleaned knives and quickly sharpened it with practiced grace. It caught Thorin’s eye how she worked; he had to admit that Brynye trained her well. “Is there anything else, Your Majesty?”

“What of you? Are you going to remain here in his stead?”

“Hardly. While I care for the Shire, neither it nor Bree are where I call home. Oh, before I forget.” She went to a nearby china hutch and pulled out several handkerchiefs. “Give them to someone in the company, perhaps Bofur or Nori. Nori could say he nicked them. Bofur could say I gave them to him knowing they’d be forgotten. Bilbo will forget them or lose them if I put them in his pack now; he always did when he was a child off on an adventure. Quite the tactician but forgetful in everyday things. Bachelorhood does not suit him.”

“Why not come with us? I would vouch for you.” Freye smiled a little at that but ignored the suggestion. “When your grandmother heard about this quest, she said she would never see you on it. That was our argument. I wished to offer you a place as is your birth right.”

Freye shook her head; she could not make such a decision without knowing the Company well enough. “Master Oakenshield, do keep in mind that hobbits have a different set of skills than Dwarrows. Bilbo will know things about the plants you encounter, a good thing to know when supplies must be stretched. Hobbits may be small and meek looking but do remember that they have not been run out of the Shire since its founding. It is not only the Rangers that keep these borders safe and conkers is just a training game. Any tween can play it without strings and my cousin is the champion of this farthing for five years running.” She gave him a smile. “Now if that is all, I have to mend your nephew’s shirt for him and write up some things for my cousin.”

“Then good night Miss Took.”

“And you as well, Master Oakenshield.”

The two parted. Thorin took a sheet of Balin’s parchment and took to writing. Freye was doing a similar task, placing them in envelopes as she went.

The next morning, Freye was up when the Company set out. She sent them off with breakfast, leftovers converted into to-go meals. She handed Fíli his tunic with a smile, the silvery stitching sticking out but the bit of embroidery she did to beautify the stitching making him smile. Kíli cackled from his spot by Ori who shushed him quickly.

From the kitchen, Freye heard Bilbo wander the halls of Bag End before hurrying to find his old travel pack from their days as tweens. After he cursed about his pack for the fifth time, she walked out to him with it fully packed and handed him several rolls stuffed with meat and a waterskin. She kissed his head as she passed him one of her daggers, one of the ones she had forged by her own hand.

“I will see that Bag End is cared for. Run, Cousin,” she instructed. He gave her a grin before taking off. She grabbed her own pack and weapons, snagging her prepared breakfast as she headed for the door. There was a piece of parchment hanging from her coat hook, hidden from sight until she took her cloak off the post. She unraveled the line holding it closed.

 

> Freye,
> 
> I know you will follow. You are too much like your grandmother. I remember meeting her in a Town of Men. She had accompanied a young halfling from the Shire, a young woman named Belladonna if I remember right. That is her picture over the mantle, is it not? Brynye accompanied the halfling because of her familial devotion. I think that same instinct runs through you. Follow us if you fear joining the company proper, but never be more than an hour from us. I would regret if you were injured because you refused to camp close enough that we might hear.
> 
> I hope to see you soon.  
>  Thorin Oakenshield
> 
>   
>  Conditions of Engagement
> 
> Agreed hereto, freely and under neither duress nor force nor coercion nor extortion nor threat of life and/or limb, and superseding any prior contract, agreement or undertaking, survivable clauses notwithstanding, signed and witnessed below, as set forth hereunder:
> 
> I, the undersigned, [referred to hereinafter as Scout] agree to travel to the Lonely Mountain in either The Company of Thorin Oakenshield or following in the status of a scout.
> 
> The aforementioned journey shall proceed in a timely manner and with all due-care and consideration as seen fit by said Thorin Oakenshield and companions, numbering thirteen more or less, to wit the Company.
> 
> Cash on delivery, up to and not exceeding one-half of Thorin Oakenshield’s personal profits.
> 
> Confidentiality is of the utmost importance and must be strictly maintained at all times. Scout agrees to maintain secrecy of the quest with the following exceptions:
> 
> Writing letters to insure the care of Bag End.
> 
> Informing Brynye Took that you have not been kidnapped.
> 
> Informing Brynye Took that you are leaving and **Thorin is not at fault.**
> 
> Early termination of the contract is unlikely. In the case of an early termination, a suitable severance package will be granted.
> 
> Adventure undertaken entirely at Scout’s own risk. Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof, including but not limited to lacerations, eviscerations, incineration.
> 
>   
>  Signed: Thorin Oakenshield  
>  Witnessed: Dwalin son of Fundin (Lass, you have your father’s eyes. I remember training him. Be safe.)  
>  Scout:

 

Freye stared at the contract for a long moment before signing her name under Dwalin’s scrawling script. She slid the contract into her bag and headed out, calling for young Hamfast as she went. She gave the letters to him as well as a copy of Bilbo’s will to be provided to the Thain and to Drogo. She had warned Drogo that her grandmother may come back to the Shire to help tend to Bag End in Bilbo’s absence. Hamfast took her words in and promised to keep the place clean for Master Bilbo. She paid Hamfast for the upkeep, enough for several months, and promised her grandmother would be by with more.

After handing the letters off to Hamfast, she picked up her pony from the stables she had boarded him in. The horse was a mix of a pony and a full horse, taller and quicker than any a hobbit would have used. She followed the Company, narrowly avoiding her cousin on his frantic run, and took up trailing the Company. She would be Thorin’s scout if he so wished.


	3. 5-1-2941; Bree

The Company of Thorin Oakenshield arrived outside of Bree late on the first of the new month. Not wishing to bring the fury of a certain dwarrowdam, Thorin sent Dwalin into the town with several of the other not so recognizable members of the Company to refresh their supplies.

Freye had caught up and passed the Company. She made it to Brynye’s home in time for supper. She was sitting down with two of her apprentices and the other master working in the forge when Freye walked in.

“You’re back early,” Brynye remarked.

“I need to speak to you.” The tone was enough that Brynye knew to follow. The pair went to the older dwarrowdam’s room and settled down to talk. Freye handed over her contract for her grandmother to read. There was none of the cursing that she was expecting. She let out a growl and sat down on the bed.

“I could strangle him.”

“I chose this, Sigin’amad.”

“I’m still not happy.” She sighed and handed back the contract. “I was hoping that by sending you out of town you would avoid Thorin and his foolish quest all together. Are you joining the main company or are you following?”

“Following, at least for a time. You know how Bilbo would react. Once we’re out far enough that he won’t insist I should be sent back, then I’ll make myself known.”

“Found his burglar then. Knowing your cousin you wouldn’t join them until Rivendell then. Including Bilbo was part of my argument with Gandalf; he wanted to employ a hobbit and thought of Bilbo almost instantly.” Brynye gave out a loud sigh before she grabbed her pack up. “I’ll see you to Rivendell at the least.”

“Sigin’amad.”

“No, I will see you to there. I’ve been putting off my trip to Rivendell as it is. I need to speak to Lord Elrond about a piece of jewelry he wanted me to forge for his daughter. Best to see him in person. His sketch rather confused me.”

“I will not be able to convince you otherwise?”

“Never.”

Freye gave up and helped her grandmother pack. The older dwarrowdam arranged for the forge to be taken care of as well as the house, citing a need to visit an elf as her reason.

In the morning, the two left Bree shortly before sunrise. They rode ahead and waited for the Company to pass before following at a half-an-hour’s pace. Brynye’s mare walked silently alongside Freye’s stallion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigin'amad-grandmother


	4. 5-25-2941; Trollshaws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trollshaws, enough said.

It had been nearly a month since they had started out on their quest. There had been several heavy storms that made Brynye and Freye regret their no fire rule, but they toughed it out. Several nights they heard the Company complaining up a storm from their campsite. It made for a good bit of entertainment.

Thorin had taken to leaving behind small things for Freye to pick up in the mornings. There was often a bit of food placed beside the embers of the morning fire or, on one occasion, a dry blanket after one of the heavier storms. Freye had curled into the blanket that night with a smile. Hers was still wet from the storm, the repellent on the blanket not holding up to the rain. Brynye’s blanket was made of better material and repelled the water easier.

Despite the little gifts, none of the Company ever found them at night when their campsites were close by. That made the arrival of Gandalf slightly shocking as Brynye and Freye set up their camp. He grabbed a few branches and a dead log and conjured a fire. He lit his pipe from an ember and sat down on a downed tree with a humph.

“How long have you known we were trailing?” Brynye asked.

“The animals speak,” Gandalf replied. “A few days after we left Bree.”

“Need a break from the Company?”

“Yes. Damn the stubbornness of dwarves. No offense.”

“It’s true though,” Freye hummed. Gandalf snorted and offered the pair some of his pipe leaf before relaxing better. Brynye dug out dinner, dried meat and dried fruits. Freye took to examining the edge of one of her throwing axes; she had had to use it to cut dead timber to make a shelter a few nights ago and hadn’t had time to inspect the edge since.

“Something killed the farmers near here,” Gandalf said. “I suspect trolls. I do not think their campsite is safe.”

“I’ll check on them,” Freye volunteered. She took up her bow and quiver, leaving her sword with Brynye. “Watch my pony, Sigin’amad?”

“Of course, dear.”

“Sunlight turns trolls to stone,” Gandalf mentioned haphazardly while gesturing with his pipe.

“Be back before second watch,” Brynye ordered. The young dwarrowdam gave a nod before disappearing into the growing darkness of the forest.

She arrived near the camp well after the darkness had settled in. Dinner was still being cooked and Thorin was talking with Balin away from the fire. Kíli and Fíli were absent from the group, likely seeing to the horses.

When Bofur handed Bilbo two bowls and sent him after the Princes of Durin, Freye followed. She kept to the trees, walking along the branches and covering her movements with the sounds of nocturnal birds—any respectable Took learned how to make animal calls; that was how you won hide-and-seek as children after all—and the odd thrown pinecone.

She had to admit, watching the princes, that they did not handle the threat of trolls in the best way. They sent poor Bilbo to steal the ponies back. Even an accomplished thief like Nori would have difficulty trying to steal four horses from the side of a campsite and they sent the rookie. At least Kíli stayed with Bilbo, slowly trailing behind him, while Fíli went back for reinforcements. She still vowed to knock the brothers’ heads in.

She slipped from tree to tree, trailing Bilbo and staying invisible to Kíli. Bilbo slid a knife from his waist, the blade that Freye had given to him before he left. He sawed at the lines of the corral. Freye took to making louder bird calls to cover the noise.

“Oi! It’s a thief!” Damn the troll for turning around to get his jug.

“Looks like a snack,” one of the trolls remarked.

“Run Bilbo!” Freye shouted. She threw a stone at the flank of a pony, startling it and sending them all running. Bilbo ran after them, the trolls trying to knock the trees out of the way to get to him. Freye drew her bow back with a notched arrow and aimed for the eye of a troll, missing as he turned his head, and striking him instead in the ear canal. The troll howled as he stumbled back.

“Blimey, there’s an archer!” one of the other trolls shouted.

“In the trees.” Freye jumped to another tree and let loose another arrow. She chanced a glance over her shoulder to see where Bilbo was. She saw Kíli catch the ponies and Bilbo, sending the hobbit away with them. She jumped to another tree, letting loose another arrow as she went.

The largest troll grabbed their pot from over the fire and hurled it at the woods, the water narrowly missing Freye but the pot slamming into her tree. She fell with a thud, the tree coming down on top of her, luckily not crushing her thanks to a convenient few stones on either side, but still keeping her against the ground. The pot came to rest by her feet, the heat radiating off it. She squirmed, the heat going through her boots.

“Got it!” One of the trolls reached toward her, finger pushing her against the ground. “What is it? Not a Man.”

“I don’t care; it’s supper. Drag it out here.” The troll snatched her around the chest, pulling at her.

A piercing sensation hit Freye in the leg. She screamed, thrashing in his grasp. The troll startled, dropping her.

“What’s it crying about?”

Freye tossed her head back, teeth clenched, in a silent scream. She saw Kíli standing behind a tree just behind her and to the left. He was adjusting the grasp on his sword. She shook her head. “No, don’t. Not for me.” He shook his head.

“Got a branch in its leg,” the smartest of the trolls said. It reached forward and snapped the tree above where she was pinned, the splinters raining down on her but the pressure relieved. She looked at her leg, a branch extending from her thigh. “Looks tasty.”

The troll went to grab her again, but this time received a sword to the hand. Kíli stood beside her, melting out of the darkness.

“You’ll not touch her!”

“You what?”

“I said you’ll not touch her.” Freye scrambled for her bow, which had fallen when the troll had tried to haul her up, and notched an arrow.

“Get him!”

Freye let loose an arrow, striking the troll in the eye. He roared and swung at the pair. Thorin leapt out of the brush and struck, the rest of the dwarrows quickly following. Kíli swung around and caught Freye around her chest, pulling her up to a defensible position by the tree.

“Cover us.” He then leapt into the battle. Freye used her arrows to the best of her ability. One of the trolls broke away from the others and grabbed her while the others were distracted. She screamed as it hauled her up, the branch driven further into her leg. That caught the attention of another troll who grabbed Freye by a leg and an arm. The two trolls pulled her taunt as the dwarrows were corralled into the clearest part of the campsite.

“Freye!” Fíli shouted. He lunged back toward her, but his uncle caught him and pulled him back.

“Lay down your arms or we’ll rip hers off,” the oldest troll snapped.

“I’m not worth it,” Freye shouted at the Company. She could see how Thorin was staring at her. “Please, do not do it.” The trolls pulled tighter and Freye screamed, the branch moving in her leg.

Thorin threw down his sword. Kíli and Fíli followed his example, the elder of the brothers watching Freye’s every breath.

The trolls stripped the dwarrows of their clothes, most of them at least, and tied some of them to log to be roasted over the fire. Freye was tied to a separate tree while the rest of the dwarrows were bound and put in sacks. A pan was put under Freye’s bleeding leg to capture the blood. The troll had ripped the branch out causing a steady stream of blood to flow down her leg.

“Bleed her dry and make a nice sauce,” Bert, one of the trolls, remarked.

“Takes too long,” Bill complained. “No juice left when you’re done!”

“Make it into to jerky,” Tom suggested.

“Don’t you touch her!” Fíli barked. He struggled inside of his sack. “You touch her, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

“Fíli be quiet,” Freye pleaded. Her head was listing to one side, resting against her shoulder. Across the clearing, she spotted movement in the shadows. Bilbo looked out from behind a bush. Tom snatched up Fíli and tossed him into the tree beside Freye, his grunt worrying his uncle. He curled up for a minute, regaining his breath, before slowly caterpillar crawling to her side. He hauled himself up and laid across her legs, bound arms coming up to put pressure on the wound. The trolls were too distracted to notice his actions. “Fíli.”

“I’m okay. I’m sorry.” His fingers were free enough that he was able to wrap them around her leg and hold his bag down as a compress. She hissed, head falling back.

“Don’t bother cooking them,” Tom said as he turned his attention back to their food. “Let’s just sit on them and squash them into jelly!”

“They should be sautéed and grilled with a sprinkle of sage,” Bill piped in.

“Is this really necessary?” one of the dwarrows, Dori most likely, demanded.

“Oh, that does sound quite nice,” Tom said.

“Never mind the seasoning. We ain’t got all night,” Bill said. “Dawn ain’t far away. Let’s get a move on. I don’t fancy being turned to stone.”

“Wait! Wait! You’re making a terrible mistake.” Bilbo stumbled out of the forest. “About the seasoning.”

“Grab the little blighter!” Bill snapped.

“Wait. What about the seasoning?” Bert asked Bilbo.

“Well have you smelt them? You’re going to need something stronger than sage to plate this lot up.”

The dwarrows began to throw a fit, calling Bilbo a traitor. Freye tried to shush them but was too weak, and Fíli was too busy trying to slow the bleeding to voice his opinions.

“What do you know about cooking dwarf?” Bill demanded.

“Shut up. Let it talk,” Bert instructed, moving to look at Bilbo closer.

“I know plenty. Taking them to the market I am, some good buyers for dwarf meat,” Bilbo lied. His eyes glanced at Freye. “And whatever that one is. My employer is certain she’ll make a good profit at the market. Exotic meat and all that. Has to be done right though.”

“Then how do you cook them?” Bert questioned.

“The secret to cooking dwarf is—” Bilbo paused as he tried to come up with the correct answer.

“Yes?”

“Just wait a moment. Have to keep the recipes straight up here,” he said and knocked on his own head. “The secret to cooking dwarf is to harvest them at the correct age. Take this one.” He motioned at Glóin, the closest dwarf to him. “Not even reached middle age this one. He’ll be too bitter. Also, drinks a lot of alcohol, he’s a bit tainted. Needs to have a good system flushing before he’s plated. And the blond there, too young, as are those two,” Bilbo continued and motioned to Kíli and Ori. “No flavor to their meat. Not old enough to have absorbed any from their environment. They’re going to taste like water. They’re my special lot; buyer hopes to use them for breeding to get more stock before they plate them." Internally, Bilbo was turning green at his own words.

“Is there any good for eating?” the troll demanded.

“Age wise, oh yes. However, he’s got worms. Terrible situation. He’s got to be treated for them before slaughter. Do you want to get worms? Terrible business. These ones make you senile. Suppose that’s why they don’t catch them in the older dwarves, they expect it already,” Bilbo remarked.

The light began to come up over the horizon. Freye spotted Gandalf moving through the woods for the large rock that blocked the way of the sun.

“I say we just eat them raw. You can season the rest tomorrow,” Bill barked.

“You must have worms then already,” Bilbo continued. “Raw dwarf? That’s how you get them. Must be why this one sneezes so much. They’re up in his head.” Bilbo motioned to Tom who began crying to the older trolls.

“The dawn will take you all!” Gandalf shouted. He stood on the boulder, staff raised.

“Who’s he?”

“No idea.”

“Can we eat him too?”

Gandalf cracked the stone in half, letting the light through to turn the trolls to stone. The dwarrows began cheering. Bilbo immediately threw as much dirt onto the fire as he could. Gandalf killed the fire once he entered the site proper and cut the dwarrows down from the cooking log. Bilbo started for Thorin and the other bagged dwarrows.

“Help your cousin. She’s injured,” Thorin ordered. “Dwalin! Cut us loose.” Gandalf aided in that as well. Bilbo cut the ties holding his cousin to the tree. She moved her hands under Fíli's to stem the blood flow. He flopped to the side and looked up at the hobbit.

“Bilbo,” Fíli said, his voice nearly pleading. The hobbit cut loose the dwarf who turned to Freye properly. “We need to stop the bleeding. Óin!” The healer was next to them soon after, he cut the pantleg apart to inspect the wound. He had Fíli lay her down with her heart below the wound.

“Heat this blade,” Óin instructed Kíli as the dwarf crouched by them. “I need it hot enough to burn flesh. I’ll have to seal this that way.” Kíli took the blade and went to the fire. He found a spot that still had flames and heated the blade. “I need people to hold her.”

“Nori grab her legs. Bofur, give him a hand. Fíli, you and I will hold her torso,” Thorin said. He knelt beside the young dwarrowdam. “I need something for her to bite into.” Fíli pulled out the sheath and knife hidden under his shirt. He took the knife out and offered the leather sheath. Freye clenched the leather between her teeth and nodded at those assembled. Kíli handed Óin the blade.

“Count of three lass.” He applied the blade after saying one. Freye’s screams were cut off in her throat, the shock of the wound and the pain taking ahold. Kíli moved forward, helping to pin her down better while Bilbo took a hand and talked to her softly. Fíli joined him, whispering reassuring words. The healer took away the blade, nodding at the sight. “Enough to get her back to the camp. Fíli, set her down by our fire. I’ll need to work on that wound some more. Kíli, find the herbs in my saddlebag and bring them.”

“Put your arms around my neck,” Fíli told Freye. She did and he picked her up. Bilbo scrambled to his feet, snatching the dwarrowdam’s quiver from the ground and following after. Thorin saw to the rest of the Company before sending them back to the campsite.

There were two new horses waiting for the Company when Fíli cleared the brush. He hesitated to step forward until he caught sight of a dwarf tending their fire, one that resembled Freye.

“Sigin’amad,” Freye mumbled.

“Oh dear. Lay her down.” Brynye pulled one of the bedrolls that was laying near the fire over. Fíli set the younger dwarf down on the bedroll. “First one always hurts the worst, dear.”

“I believe you stole that line from Master Fundin,” Thorin commented as he came through the edge of the clearing. “Brynye.”

“Thorin.” Kíli entered the clearing holding the package of herbs that Óin requested. Brynye hummed at the sight. “Hand them over lad. Best get started before your healer arrives. Sooner this is bandaged the better,” Brynye remarked. She had the salve made by the time Óin arrived. He recognized the dwarrowdam kneeling by his patient. She had brought her mothers’ lessons to Ered Luin when he was still an apprentice. He fell into working beside her easily. Fíli held Freye in his arms as they treated her, murmuring comforting, distracting words. She fisted his tunic and whined into his chest every time a particularly painful feeling washed over her.

The Company returned while they were working but watched quietly. Once the bandaging was done, the Company looked over both new arrivals.

“I am confused,” Ori admitted. Thorin, from where he sat beside Freye and the others, snorted softly. He handed a waterskin over to the dwarrowdam and insisted she drink the whole thing.

“Brynye Took,” Balin said clearly. She looked up at the white-haired dwarf and beamed. The two old friends hugged and shared a headbutt. She greeted Dwalin as well. “I should have recognized her back in the Shire.”

“I think that’s why she covered her hair,” Bilbo piped up. “Spent half the day frantically trying to conceal her braids, worried about who was coming and if they’d accept her.” Freye tried to slap Bilbo but was too weak. “Easy, Cousin.”

“Can someone explain what is going on, please,” Dori requested. “Your Highness, how do you know a hobbit?”

“Not a hobbit,” Freye complained. “’M a half breed.”

“Oh, you’re more dwarf than hobbit,” Brynye said and patted her on her good leg. “I am Brynye Took, Clan-Less Dwarf and adoptive child of hobbits. Freye is my granddaughter by Frye Took and his wife Asta Sitaul. My husband was a hobbit.”

“She ain’t got no beard,” Bofur piped up.

“Adad was able to grow one but not irak’amad,” Freye said. “I take after irak’amad.”

“It was a sleepless night. We’ll rest another day,” Thorin said looking over his Company. “I’ll take first watch. Fíli, Kíli, check the ponies and feed them. Everyone else, get some sleep. Brynye, you and Freye are to remain with us. I will not hear otherwise.”

Bilbo and Brynye moved Freye to a darker side of the clearing. The pair settled down on either side of her, the hobbit curling into his cousin’s side. The rest of the dwarrows settled down, including the brothers when they returned to the camp. Many were asleep quickly. Gandalf mentioned looking for the trolls’ cave and left them for the time being. Thorin took up his post near Brynye and her charges.

Sleep did not come easy to Freye. Her leg was aching fiercely, the pain tonic Brynye had whipped up not working yet. She looked at Thorin, watching him as he puffed on his pipe.

“I had hoped you would not follow, mabannamûna. If you did, I had hoped you would join us outright. I worried for you.” He put his pipe down for a moment. “That argument you heard when I was in Bree. Part of it was because I wanted to invite you. You are a dwarf; you had the same right to accompany us as any other. Your grandmother did not want you to come; she said she had lost too much.”

“She may have lost much but she also realized that I would never be content to sit still.” Thorin glanced at the woods before looking at her proper. “I still feared revealing myself to the rest of the Company. I know Balin and Dwalin would have accepted me; they accepted Sigin’amad and Adad easily enough. I felt your nephews would accept me as well, hoped really. Sigin’amad still talks fondly of Princess Dís. They write to each other. The others though? I feared rejection.” Freye looked up at him. “If I may, I will remain. I signed my contract, nu’adad.” She pulled it out of a knife sheath, the small pouch on the back of the sheath thin and concealing the parchment. Thorin looked at the signed document before handing it back.

“You are welcome to stay. Your grandmother?”

“Wished to see Rivendell, something about a client wanting a particular style of necklace and a bad sketch.” Thorin grumbled a little at the mention of Rivendell. He glanced down at Brynye. The older dwarrowdam was fast asleep, one arm over her granddaughter’s waist to keep her firmly in her grasp.

“Did your grandmother ever look for her family in Ered Luin? Or any of the other villages? I know she traveled some. I never dared to ask; her lost family was a subject that often led to being hit with a frying pan,” Thorin confessed. He hadn’t been on the receiving end of such treatment, but he had heard the stories and witnessed it a few times himself.

“Probably because she never searched for them. She had no clue where to start, even with the hints Uncle Fothon had given her. There was a note left where she was found, one to tell the dwarrows or the Rangers where to find her. No one ever came.” A deep-set frown developed on Thorin’s face. “I have her family’s beads though.” She pulled out her necklace, the one that bore all her beads. She took it off and pulled two forward before handing it to Thorin who had stretched out his hand. “Sigin’amad gave them to me before I left for the Shire. She hoped I might find the answers she never did.”

“These are family beads. Her mother and father’s?” Thorin guessed. Freye nodded. “One last attempt by her parents to give her hope then.” He inspected the design. “These beads, the design comes from the clans of Khazad-dûm but not of Durin’s Folk entirely. Looks like a marriage between two clans. These marks?” He gestured to a small mark on the beads. “Longbeard and Broadbeam. The Longbeard bead is of a daughter’s line, one that claimed no father. Seems I should recognize these, something my grandfather once told me I think. We may find the answers in Erebor. As for the other bead, Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur are all of the Broadbeam Clan. They might be able to help.” Thorin gave her the beads back.

“That is more than I had before. Thank you.”

“Do not fear of no longer having a people, young one. Erebor will welcome you when we reclaim it, even if I have to make a new clan to satisfy the insufferable councils to come.” He gave her a slight smirk, an encouraging sign. “You will do well there. Now, to sleep with you. I can see that tonic is beginning to work. Your eyes are drooping.”

She snorted before turning slightly to snuggle against her cousin. Thorin got up and put more logs in the fire. It would do them well to rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mabannamûna-“she who continues to become more beautiful” (Dwarrow Scholar)  
> nu'adad=second-father/godfather (I made this up. I used Dwarrow Scholar but couldn't find an actual godfather in the dictionary. The two parts to make god+father just didn't sound right. I liked second-father better. Also, that's the role that godparents would have to fulfill relatives died, they would be the new parents, the second parents. If anyone has a better word, let me know.)


End file.
